“You try to shut it down. Go ahead!” Paithan yelled, waving a hand at the door.
“Maybe I will!” Roland said loftily, somewhat daunted but unable to refuse the challenge.
He took a step toward the door. The light went out; the humming stopped. Roland stopped, too.
“What did you do?” Paithan demanded, pouncing on him angrily.
“Nothing! I swear! I didn’t go near the damn thing!”
“You broke it!” Paithan clenched his fists.
Roland clenched his own fists, fell into a fighting stance.
“There’s someone out there!” Rega cried. “Don’t try to trick me, Rega.” Roland and Paithan were circling each other. “It won’t work. I’m going to tie those pointed ears around his neck—”
“Stop it, both of you!” Rega grabbed hold of Paithan, nearly dragging him off his feet, and hauled him over to the window. “Look, damn it! There are two people—two humans, by the look of them—out beyond the gate.”
“Orn’s ears, there are people out there!” Paithan said in astonishment.
“They’re running from the tytans.”
“Oh, Paithan, you were wrong!” Rega said excitedly. “There are more people on this world.”
“They won’t be on it for long,” Paithan said grimly. “There must be fifty of those monsters out there and only two of them. They’ll never make it.”
“The tytans! They’ve got them! We have to help!” Rega started to run off. Paithan caught her around the waist. “Are you mad? There’s nothing we can do!”
“He’s right, sis.” Roland had lowered his fists, was peering out the window.
“If we went out there, we’d only die, too—”
“Besides,” Paithan added in awed tones, “it doesn’t look as if they need our help. Blessed Mother! Did you see that?”
Loosening his hold on Rega in his amazement, Paithan leaned out the window. Roland crowded in beside him. Rega pulled herself up on her tiptoes to look out over their shoulders.
The citadel was built on one of the few mountains tall enough to rise above the mass of Pryan’s vegetation. The jungle encircled it, but had not encroached upon it. A path, cut into jagged rock, led from the jungle to the citadel, to the large metal door formed in the shape of a hexagon and inscribed with the same picture-writing the books termed “runes.” Once, many cycles ago, the five trapped in the citadel had run up that path themselves, pursued by a flesh-devouring dragon. It was the dwarf, Drugar, who had figured out how to open that magical door. Escaping inside, they had shut the dragon out.
Now two more people were running along that same treacherous path, attempting to reach the safe haven of the citadel. The tytans, carrying branches clutched in massive fists, were bearing down on their foes, who looked smaller and more fragile than insects.
But then one of the strangers, clad in black robes,[34] turned to face the advancing tytans. The figure raised his hands. Blue light flared around him, danced and twined, and then spread out to form an enormous blue wall, a blue wall that burst into flame.
The tytans fell back before the magical fire. The strangers took advantage of the monsters’ confusion to continue running up the path.
“Haplo,” Paithan muttered.
“What?” Rega asked.
“Ouch! Do you have to dig your nails into my shoulder? The blue fire reminds me of that Haplo, that’s all.”
“Maybe. But look, Paithan! The fire isn’t stopping the tytans!” The magical fire was flickering, dying out. The tytans continued their advance.
“But the two have almost reached the gate. They’ll be safe enough.” The three fell silent, watching this life—or-death race.
The strangers—the one in black robes and the other dressed in ordinary human-type clothing—had reached the metal gate. They came to a sudden halt.
“What’s stopping them?” Roland wondered.
“They can’t get in!” Rega cried.
“Sure they can,” Roland scoffed. “Any wizard who can work magic like that ought to be able to open a gate.”
“That Haplo got in,” Paithan said. “Or at least he claimed he did.”
“Would you quit yammering about Haplo!” Rega shouted at him. “I tell you they can’t get in! We’ve got to go down there and open the gate for them.” Paithan and Roland exchanged glances. Neither moved.
Rega cast them each a furious look; then, turning, she headed toward the stairs.
“No! Wait! If you open the gate for them, you’ll let the tytans in, too!” Paithan made a grab for her, but this time Rega was prepared. She darted out of his reach and was off and running down the hall before he could stop her. Paithan swore something in elven and started after her. Noticing he was alone, he stopped, turned. “Roland! Come on! It’ll take both of us to fight the tytans off—”
“Not necessary,” Roland said. He waved Paithan back to the window. “Drugar’s down there. He’s opening the gate.”
The dwarf took the pendant that hung from around his neck and placed it in the center of the runes as he had done once before, only this time he was inside the gate instead of outside. The sigil on the dwarf’s pendant burned with blue fire, expanded. Wherever its fire touched one of the sigla on the gate, that sigil burst into blue flame. Soon a circle of magic burned brightly. The gates swung open. The two strangers darted inside, the tytans roaring on their heels. The magical fire daunted the monsters, however. They fell back. The gates shut; the flames died.
The tytans began to beat on the gates with their fists.
“They’re attacking the citadel!” Paithan exclaimed in horror. “They never did that before. Do you think they can get in?”
“How the hell should I know?” Roland retorted. “You’re the expert. You’re the one who’s read all those damn books! Maybe you should turn that machine of yours back on again. That seems to calm them down.”
Paithan would gladly have turned the machine on again, but he didn’t have any idea how. He couldn’t tell Roland that, however, and for the moment, Roland was actually regarding Paithan with a certain amount of grudging respect. What the human doesn’t know won’t hurt him, was Paithan’s theory. Let him think I’m a mechanical genius. If I’m lucky, the machine will cycle itself back up again. If not, and the tytans manage to break down the wall, well, the truth won’t matter much then anyway.
“The machine ... uh ... has to rest. It’ll come back on soon.” Paithan prayed to Orn he was right.
“It had better. Or we’re all going to be resting—resting in peace, if you know what I mean.”
They could hear clearly, through the open window, the tytans roaring and bashing at the walls in a frantic effort to get inside. Rega was down there now, talking with the human in the black robes.
“One of us ought to go down there,” Paithan suggested, prodding Roland.
“Yeah, you should,” Roland agreed, prodding Paithan. Suddenly an enormous shape filled the window, blotting out the sunlight. A dank, dark smell choked them.
Frightened half out of their wits, the two grabbed hold of each other, dragged each other down. A massive green-scaled body slid past the window, scraping along the outside wall of the citadel at tremendous speed.
“A dragon!” Paithan quavered.
Roland said something not repeatable.
A gigantic talon thrust through the window.
“Oh, god!” Paithan quit hugging Roland and hugged the floor. Roland flung his arms over his head.
But the talon disappeared after breaking out a section of the marble wall. The dragon had apparently used the window to give itself leverage. The green-scaled body slithered off. Sunlight shone through.
Trembling, the two clutched at the windowsill, pulled themselves cautiously back up, peered out over the ledge.
The dragon was sliding down the tower, wrapping its wingless body around tall spires, then dropping onto the courtyard below. Those in the courtyard—Rega, Drugar, and the two strangers—appeared to be frozen with terror. None of them made a move. The dragon lurched toward them.
34
Probably what led Paithan to deduce that Xar was human. No elf ever wears black, considering the color ill-omened.